Ice Cold
by LydiaofNarnia
Summary: Fili has had the powers for as long as he can remember. He has lived in fear all his life, isolated from the rest of the world- and his own brother. But when he is crowned heir to the throne of Erebor and his brother annopunces his intentions to marry a strange but beautiful woman, things quickly fall apart. And now Kili has to find his brother before it's too late. (KILLIEL)
1. A Strange Child

**AN: Okay, so I'm probably the only one. But while watching Frozen, I couldn't help but think about how much Elsa and Anna reminded me of Fíli and Kíli. I mean, think about it- they're both royalty. Elsa's the older, responsible sibling, heir to the throne, with a deep sense of responsibility and loyalty. And Anna's the young, bright, cheery sibling who's loving, reckless and daring. Why couldn't this crossover work?**

**Just a quick note- this won't follow the exact plot of Frozen, and it's hardly the plot of The Hobbit at all save for the characters- heck, they aren't even dwarves here. And there isn't any singing- as much as we'd all like to see Dean O'Gorman singing his heart out while dancing around an ice palace, that's not going on here. I'd also like to take a moment to formally apologize for what I've done to Smaug and Bilbo here- I just…. Bah, I needed a Hans and Smaug was the big bad, and Bilbo's tiny, so I thought, hey, snowhobbit- I'm sorry.**

**I really shouldn't do this. I really shouldn't. I'm rewriting one of my older Hobbit stories as we speak, and my Les Mis one is still an absolute mess with all my re-writing. So why am I starting this?**

**Hell, I don't know. But I can't stop myself now, so here we go, I guess.**

From the moment Fíli, son of Víli and Dís, was born, he was the heir to the throne of Erebor. His uncle, Thorin Oakenshield, King Under The Mountain, had made it clear that he never planned to have any children, and so Fíli was officially named heir the day of his birth. The child, of course, did not know of the great responsibility, and he would not until he was much older. For that short time, he was free to simply be an average child.

He was a strange infant, however, and it was odd to ever think of the small child as ever being King of Erebor. He was always pale, with almost translucent skin and hair so light that it could almost be called white. This was especially unusual, given that both his mother and uncle were dark of coloring and his father, while blond, was a tanned miner with a darker shade of hair far darker than his young son's. To add to that, Fíli always seemed to be cold- almost unnervingly so. His skin was constantly freezing, and although it worried his mother to no end he did not seem to be bothered by it in the slightest.

Aside from those slight quirks, however, Fíli was a fairly normal child- he rarely cried, ate anything that was put in front of him, and seemed to truly listen when you spoke to him. He was clearly intelligent and his blue eyes held wiseness far beyond his young age. This, Thorin proclaimed, was what would one day make Fíli a great king, not the quirks of his appearance; and that was exactly what he informed anyone who dare to ask.

Even so, the entire kingdom seemed relieved when two years after Fíli's birth, another child was born. This child bore the coloring of his mother and uncle and the dark eyes of his father; he was quite clearly of the line of Durin. This child was named Kíli, and together the two princes grew.

The two children were practically complete opposites- in fact, their mother would often liken them to ice and fire. For while Fíli was solemn, responsible and cold to those outside of his close circle of family and friends, Kíli was brash and bright, never able to hold still, and warm to all. Still the two were nearly inseparable as they grew- it really was quite remarkable how close they were. When one had a thought, it was always shared by the other, and they seemed bound at the hip.

But as they grew, it became more and more evident that there was something not right with Fíli.

It had started when he was less than a year old. Dís had just given him a little bowl of water to play with while she sewed, and she had turned her back for a moment- just a moment- only to see the tiny portion of water covered by a thin sheet of ice.

This began happening more and more frequently, and by the time he was nearly two years old Fíli was able to freeze an entire glass of water completely solid. And he was learning how to do so much more.

"Ignore it," advised Óin, the royal healer, who in reality had never seen anything like Fíli's powers in all of his many years. And so they did. They ignored the child's magic in the hopes that it would go away on its own. But it didn't. And it just kept growing.

Kíli, of course, was not oblivious to his brother's powers. In fact, they quickly became one of his favorite things, and he soon loved nothing more than playing with "the magic snow" that Fíli could create using his hands.

It wasn't rare for Víli and Dís to be woken by shouts and laughter from the ballroom, and to find it filled with snow, ice and two delighted little boys. Fíli's powers were expanding at an alarming rate, and each time he and Kíli played with the ice magic his powers only seemed to grow stronger.

"You must stop this," Thorin would tell the child firmly, grasping his two ice cold hands in his own rough, warm ones. "You must refrain from using your powers, you must."

"I try," Fíli would reply, "I really do! But I can't stop it, uncle- it's always pouring out of me, it always wants to be let out. I can't keep from using it, I just can't!"

"You have to," Thorin would insist. "You've got to control it, you've got to keep it hidden."

"You've got to try, Fíli," his mother would add from where she sat next to his uncle. "I know it's hard, but you have to. You have to be a good boy for mummy, alright? You can't let it out."

"Do you understand us, Fíli?" Thorin would ask finally, his eyes stern.

Fíli would nod his little head solemnly, and Thorin would smile at him, and his mother would envelop him in a tight, warm hug. "There's my good boy," she would whisper softly in his ear. "There's my good, good boy."

And Fíli would try to be a good boy. He really, really would. But there were some days where he felt that he was almost ready to burst with the energy, with the power he could heel flowing through his veins, and he wouldn't be able to hold it back. With a few waves of his hands, he would feel almost instant relief of the pressure of keeping his magic inside, and his entire room would be covered in ice.

"What can we do?" Víli would whisper to Thorin, and he would simply shake his head.

"There is nothing we can do," he would reply. "The boy will learn, in time. Until then, he is not a danger to anyone, so all we can really do is help him control it, help him keep it hidden."

Thorin's words were rarely proved false, but in this particular case, they were- and in the worst way possible.

Fíli was six and Kíli was four. The two could never sleep in separate beds- they always slept together, their arms curled around each other tightly. Kíli had learned to withstand the cold- the warmth of his brother's touch did nothing for Fíli.

On this night, the northern lights shone high in the sky, and while Fíli soundly slumbered, Kíli found that he simply couldn't sleep. Try as he might, turning in bed, hugging his pillow, even sleeping upside down- nothing seemed to help. Finally, he pulled himself out of bed and went to the window, where he pulled himself up to sit on the window ledge and stared up at the sky.

The night was alive in a mixture of a dozen colours; reds and blues and greens all blended together in different shades and tones, and seemed to swim and waver in the sky. The bright lights reflected back onto Kíli's face, and the little boy's eyes lit up with awe.

He couldn't tell how long he sat there- he felt it to be hours, but in reality it really could only have been five minutes or so. Finally, he dropped down from the ledge and ran over to the bed he and his brother shared, swinging one leg up and pulling himself up on his brother's side.

"Fíli- psst!"

There was no response from his sleeping brother, so Kíli rolled onto the lump in the blankets that was his brother's sleeping from. "Fíli!" He began to shake the other boy upon receiving no answer, bouncing up and down on his knees and causing his brother's body to bounce. "Fíli! Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

Fíli finally groaned, looking up at him groggily. "_Kíli_," he sighed, a small smile on his still half-slumbering face, "go back to sleep."

Kíli sighed in exasperation. "I just can't!" He moaned, draping himself over his brother's body dramatically and staring up at the ceiling with his wide brown eyes. "The _sky's_ awake, so _I'm_ awake." When Fíli didn't reply, Kíli brought both hands up to his head. "So we have to _play_!"

"Go play by yourself!" Fíli exclaimed, and with one swift push he had knocked his younger brother off of him and onto the ground.

Kíli frowned, staring at the ground for a moment. He had to get Fíli to play- he just _had_ to. But how could he coax him out of bed?

Suddenly, the four year olds face lit up with inspiration, as he got an _idea_.

Springing back up to the bed and clambering on top of his brother again, he pulled open one of his brother's eyes and leaned down to whisper in his ear- "Do you want to build a snow-hobbit?"

At last, Fíli opened both eyes, and his face split into a grin.

_Victory._

* * *

The two children raced down the hall, Fíli leading his younger brother by the hand. Kíli was bouncing up and down, pleading with his brother to hurry, but Fíli swiftly shushed him. "Quiet, you dolt!" He exclaimed. "Do you want mother or father to hear? I'm not supposed to use my powers, remember?"

Kíli immediately solemned. "Oh. Yeah." He frowned, looking up at his brother. "We can still play though, right?"

Fíli considered this for a moment, before nodding affirmatively, and Kíli immediately recommenced his bouncing. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

Somehow, the boys managed to sneak into the ballroom without getting caught by and of the servants around the castle. Once the door was firmly shut, the two brothers exchanged excited looks.

"Do the magic! Do the magic!" Kíli exclaimed, and Fíli grinned. These nights, these times he'd spend with Kíli, those were the few times when he was able to feel free, and he relished it.

He laughed at the excitement on his little brother's face, and theatrically waved his hands together. Almost immediately, snowflakes burst forth, materializing out of thin air, and danced between his palms. With little to no effort, Fíli managed to form a snowball. He looked down once more at Kíli's gleeful little face, and tossed the snowball high into the air. Snow burst out, spreading across the ceiling, and began to fall in light flurries around the room. Kíli shrieked in delight and began to dance around the room, catching snowflakes on his tongue and in his hands.

"More! More!" he cried excitedly, and Fíli's grin grew even wider.

"Watch this!" he called, and Kíli's dark head turned to him. With a stomp of his foot, the entire floor of the ballroom was suddenly transformed into a gigantic ice rink. Kíli shrieked with laughter as he slid off, gliding around the room with ease despite his bare feet.

They played that way for hours- Fíli flinging ice magic around the room, and Kíli delighting in every second. They did, in fact, build a snow-hobbit- a tiny, round man with scraggly snow hair and large feet. "What should we name it?" Fíli asked aas the two children stepped back to admire their creation proudly.

Kíli stared at it hard, tilting his head. "Bilbo," he said at last. "I like that name. Bilbo Baggins."

"Bilbo Baggins!" Fíli exclaimed. "Where on earth did you get that name."

"I made it up," Kíli shrugged. "His name is Bilbo Baggins and he likes-"

"Adventures!" Fíli exclaimed, and the two dissolved into giggles, because everyone knew that hobbits hated adventures.

The real disaster came when Kíli leapt out of a giant snowdrift that his brother had conjured in the middle of the room. "Catch me!" He exclaimed, and Fíli sent another snow mountain under his feet for him to land on. This he jumped off, too, and they quickly made a game of Kíli leaping from snowdrifts into the air, only to land on another.

But he was going too fast. Kíli kept going faster and faster, laughing more and more with each soft landing, and Fíli was beginning to struggle to keep up. "Wait- slow down!" He exclaimed, but Kíli either didn't hear him or simply chose not to heed his brother, as he leapt faster and faster, higher and higher- and suddenly, Fíli slipped.

He fell back, landing hard against the ice with a gasp. He turned his head slightly, only to see his little brother sailing through the air. "Kíli!" Fíli's eyes widened as he realized that his brother was about to land on solid ice. He sent a desperate blast of ice magic towards the airborne child, aiming to land right under his feet- but he missed, and the blast connected with the four year old's head, instead.

The little boy barely had time to gasp before he was unconscious, and he fell to the snow, landing hard and not moving. Fíli's eyes widened as he stared at his little brother, and over his ragged gasps he could hear voices in his head- his uncle, his mother, his father, Kíli, even himself.

_Dangerous. Be mummy's good boy. Keep it hidden. Catch me! Let's play. Hidden. Good boy. Hidden. Try. You must. You must. Dangerous. Your fault. Your fault._

"No," Fíli wept, crawling over to his brother's still form. "No!" He picked up his brother, resting his small head in his lap. "Kíli," he moaned, cradling the tiny boy in his arms before drawing back in shock. A small white streak the same color as Fíli's hair, even lighter, appeared in Kíli's own dark hair, running through the strands and rapidly approaching Fíli's own hand, entwined in his little brother's hair. He pulled back in horror, and sharp cries tore from his throat.

"Mummy!" he shouted, cradling Kíli even tighter. "Mum, Dad, Uncle Thorin- help! Help! _Mum_!"

And he could feel it- his power leaking out of him, spreading across the ground, ruining all the fun that he and Kíli had had that night. He wasn't sorry. He didn't want to see any of that anymore, he didn't want to look at that snow-hobbit- they all seemed almost wicked now, in light of what he had just done to his brother. But it did scare him, it scared him terribly; because, as the ice spread up the walls and on to the ceiling, he realized that that was the first time he had ever lost control like that. But, honestly- he couldn't care about that right now.

"You're okay, Kee," he wept in his brother's ear, trying his hardest not to look at the white streak in Kíli's hair- the mark of his magic, the mark which _he_ had caused. "I got you."

Suddenly the door to the ballroom was flung open, and Fíli looked up to see his mother, father and his uncle standing in the doorway. Seeing her little boy lying limply in his brother's arms, their mother gasped in horror. Thorin raced forward, followed closely by Fíli and Kíli's parents. "Fíli, what have you done?" Thorin exclaimed. "This is getting out of hand!"

"It- it was an accident, I didn't mean too, I- I'm sorry, Kíli," he finished with a whisper, pressing his forehead to his brother's, which, he now felt with horror, was just as cold as his.

His mother scooped Kíli up into her arms, cradling him. "He's ice cold!" She exclaimed, horror evident in her eyes, and Fíli's father wrapped his arms around his wife's shoulders.

"We need help!" He exclaimed, pressing a hand to his child's forehead. "Can anyone help us?"

Thorin regarded Fíli, who still sat on the ground, gravely. Fíli shrunk back under his uncle's intense gaze. Finally, Thorin turned back to his sister and her husband. "Call Oin. Quickly."

But Óin, of course, was unale to help, and he emerged from the child's room half aan hour later shaking his head sadly. "There is only one place I know of where the child may find help, he said to his king solemnly.

"Well?" Thorin demanded, face set in a stern mask to conceal the sharp pangs of grief he felt whenever he looked towards the door of his nephews' room. "Go on. Tell us!"

"Thorin," Óin said slowly, addressing the other man not as his king, but as his cousin and longtime friend. "It is not something you would like."

Dís's head shot up, instantly recognizing the meaning behind Oin's words, her eyes wide in shock. "Thorin- no."

Thorin's gaze darkened. "You suggest we seek help from the elves? Place the life of my nephew- my _kin_- in the hands of those who so easily betrayed us so many years ago?"

"We may not have any other choice," Óin sighed. "If the boy is to live, the elves may be our only hope. The medicine of the elves far surpasses any other, even, I must say, our own."

"But seek help from the elves?" Dís cried, her hands tightly clutching the firm arm of her husband. "Surely it cannot be the only way."

Víli looked back and forth from his wife to his brother-in-law and back to the healer. "For the life of my son," he said, his dark eyes so much like Kili's own shining intently, "I would place aside all prejudices. If the elves can save him, I say we go to them."

"Do we even know they'll help us?" Dís inquired quietly, and Thorin's gaze darkened.

"They will help us," he replied icily. "They will give us aid or so help me, I will have the Elvenking's head on a plate! They _will_ help us!"

Dís studied Óin intently, her face unreadable. "Do you truly believe that the elves can save my son?"

Óin simply nodded, and Dís's eyes hardened. "Then," she said, turning to her brother, "do it."

* * *

They rode to the elvenking's forest on horseback, and as they did magic continued to seep out of Fíli's hands, leaving a trail of ice in their wake. "Stop that," Thorin hissed, even tenser than usual at the prospect of asking the elves for aid.

Fíli shivered despite the fact that he could not feel cold. "I- I can't."


	2. Blocked Out and Locked In

**AN: Okay, so I know that technically Tauriel, as an elf, really wouldn't be a child at this point- but there isn't any denying that baby Kristoff was one of the cutest things in Frozen, and picturing a little Tauriel is just too…. ugh. Yeah. So, if you'll forgive this slight inaccuracy….**

**Mizim = sweetheart in Khuzdul.**

**Also, I went back and edited last chapter- only the end, where Thorin makes the descision to go to seek help from the elves. So, if you want to go back and read that, it might help a bit more…**

No one noticed the small elven child as she snuck through the Elvenking's walls, quiet as a field mouse. Her long red hair flowed behind her as she darted through the corridors, closely followed by a small animal with light, almost white fur.

"Come on, Legolas!" The elven girl hissed, beckoning to the baby elk behind her, and he responded with an irritated snort, prancing gracefully after her, nimble-footed despite his young age. Tauriel rolled her eyes. "If a guard sees us, he'll send us back to our rooms."

Legolas huffed, rolling his own eyes before abruptly pausing, ears perking. Tauriel, who had heard the approaching elf only seconds before her friend, quickly ducked into a small nook in the wall, which led into another hallway. The little elk groaned as he just managed to squeeze through the narrow opening before Tauriel slid the panel in the wall closed, concealing the nook entirely. Breathing a small sigh of relief, she beckoned to her friend again in the dim light. "Come on, Legolas. Faster."

Legolas grunted again before abruptly taking off down the corridor. Tauriel yelped, taking off after him. In the back of her mind, she knew she ought to be nervous- this was one of the halls she wasn't as familiar with, and she should be careful- but she ignored the nagging worry and pushed on, only focused on catching her friend.

Legolas realized where they were a second before Tauriel did, and suddenly he stopped dead. Tauriel gasped as she crashed into him, falling backwards. Still, she ignored the pain as her eyes widened incredulously.

"It's the King's hall!" She breathed in awe- for the girl and elk were staring straight down into the chamber of the Elvenking Thranduil. And if that wasn't bad enough, the Elvenking had visitors. The two were listening in on a confidential meeting.

Legolas, eyes wide, turned to look at Tauriel, who simply gaped back at him. Did either of them make a move to leave? No, of course not. I mean, would _you_?

"Thorin Oakenshield," Thranduil greeted in a… less than friendly voice. But it was positively sweet compared to the glare on the face of the man with long, dark hair streaked with gray, who held a small child in his arms.

For some reason, Tauriel's breath hitched when she caught sight of the limp child in Thorin Oakenshield's arms. It was a tiny boy with tanned skin and a long streak of white running through his otherwise dark, scraggly hair, and he was completely still, his chest rising in a shallow, steady rythym.

"What brings you to enter my domain?"

The dark haired man looked as if he were very close to saying some words that the small, pale child who Tauriel had not noticed before and who lurked under Thorin Oakenshield's legs should not yet hear. However, thankfully, the woman next to him, who looked as if she could pass for Oakenshield's twin, spoke up before he could react.

"We are here in behalf of my son!" She proclaimed. Her voice was firm and steady, and demanded respect. From her perch high up, Tauriel could see Thranduil's eyes widen almost imperceptively.

"Lady Dís," he greeted cordially, and the little child in blue quickly switched to hiding behind his mother's skirts instead.

"And my sons," the woman nodded. "We come here to ask for your help."

The king smiled thinly. "Help?" he echoed, leaning forward slowly. "And why would I help the King of Erebor?"

"I do not ask for your help!" Thorin snarled. "I come to you only because I do not put it to even _you_ to sit by while an innocent child dies. Certainly not given the fate of your late queen and infant."

The Elvenking leaned forward abruptly. "Then what, Thorin Oakenshield?" he asked, his tone sharp, but it was clear that he had deflated a bit. His wife, as all of the Woodland Realm knew, had died in childbirth; her soul had departed to Valinor, and the Elvenking still mourned the loss of his wife and child, after so many years. "Then what if I refuse to help you?"

Thorin's smirk said all that needed to be said; he knew he had hit on a nerve, and he knew he had gotten his way.

It proved true; Thranduil was no longer paying attention to him. Instead, he was studying the older boy, the one adorned in blue night robes.

"Show me your hands, child," he ordered the blond boy, and obligingly the child bared his palms. The Elvenking frowned upon them.

"Born with the powers, or cursed?"

"Born," Lady Dís said, a hand resting on her son's shoulder. "And getting stronger."

Thranduil swiftly descended from his throne and stood before the boy, taking his hand in his own and studying it. Thorin looked as if he wanted to yank his nephew away, but he held himself back.

Turning towards the King Under the Mountain, Thranduil placed a hand on the limp child's head. He frowned, eyes boring into the little one intently. "You are lucky it wasn't his heart," he murmured after a period of tense silence. "The heart is not so easily changed." He looked up, first to Thorin and then to Dís before continuing. "The head, however, can be persuaded."

Thranduil slowly pulled his hand away, and strands of what Tauriel could only liken to moonlight seemed to flow out of the child's head and float above Thranduil's hand. "I shall remove all magic- even memories of magic. The child will be at peace."

The older boy, who was watching the proceedings intently, frowned. "You mean… he won't remember I have powers?"

The Elvenking turned his head towards the boy, and his gaze softened ever so slightly. "He'll remember you, and the times you shared- but not the magic that was involved."

"It's for the best, Fíli," Thorin murmured, his gaze not leaving Thranduil as he pressed the "moonlight" into the younger child's head again. The boy shifted in his uncle's arms, a small smile appearing on his face.

"He will be alright," said Thranduil, drawing back from the young one with a whoosh of his robes. "And as for you-" he turned to Fíli, who shrunk back into his mother and uncle, eyes wide. Tauriel bit her lip as she watched, sure that the king was about to punish the boy for what he had done to his brother. But, of course, that was not to be.

"I have seen your power before," Thranduil said silkily. "It is rare, but I have seen it; and I will tell you now what I have observed from them." The child leaned forward, fascination alight in hiss eyes, and he watched the Elvenking's every move.

"Your power," said Thranduil, "will only grow." And then Tauriel gasped and staggered back as suddenly an imagein light appeared over his head. "There is beauty in it-" and the image, which was clearly that of the boy- no, the boy turned a man, creating snow magic in his hands, and Tauriel watched in awe- "but also great danger." Both Fíli and Tauriel gasped in unison as the glistening snowflake seemed to explode into a blinding red firestorm of light which swept down on either side of the ice-sorcerer- "You must learn to control it," he breathed, seeming as entranced by the flames of his creation as the rest of the room. "Fear will be your enemy." And the image cried out as the man was consumed by the burning red light. Fíli gasped, and buried his face in his mother's dark skirts.

"No!" Thorin exclaimed, his gaze hard as he stared at the space where the image once was. "He can control it. He will learn."

Dís turned her head to study her brother, and Thorin sighed. "Until then," he said, "we will close off the royal halls of the Mountain."

"Thorin!" Dís gasped. "You can't."

"We have no other choice!" Thorin retorted, looking pained. "We will limit his contact with others; keep his powers hidden. From everyone…" he trailed off, glancing mournfully down at the slumbering child in his arms. "Including Kíli."

Thranduil raised a fine eyebrow, and a small smirk spread across his face, but he said nothing more, aside from, "do as you deem wise, Thorin Oakenshield."

The meeting broke off quickly after that, and Tauriel just managed to catch a last glimpse of the dark boy cradled in his uncle's arms before Legolas nudged her and her eyes widened. They should have been back hours ago!

Tauriel and Legolas scampered back to their rooms, and somehow their escapade above the King's hall was not found out. But, as you would expect, neither slept soundly that night.

* * *

The last glimpse Fíli had of his brother as he shut the door to his new bedroom the next day was of his brother staring at him from the end of the hall, dark eyes wide in confusion and hurt- and the stark white streak running through his hair, which was the only thing that gave Fíli the strength to shut that door. He couldn't hurt Kíli again. He couldn't hurt anyone. Ever.

The last glimpse Kíli had of his brother was of him standing in the doorway to his new room, eyes brimming with tears as he shut the door- and then his brother looked up at him and his face hardened resolutely. The door clicked closed, and Kíli just didn't know what he had done to make his brother hate him so much. What had he done?

* * *

The boys quickly fell into a routine. Every day, Kíli would while away the hours as best as he could- so many people who used to visit every day no longer came around. It wasn't just Fíli- everyone hated him now, and Kíli just didn't understand why. What had he done that was so awful that he no longer had any friends to play with, and that his own brother had deserted him?

Each day at noon, without fail, Kíli would go and knock on his brother's door. What he said was never the same day by day; it always varied. Sometimes it was gentle prompting;

"Fee? Aren't you in there? Come on Fee, come play with me. I'm lonely."

Other times it was tearful begging, and someone would find him sobbing outside his brother's door and have to carry him away;

"Fíli! Fee, please! I'm so lonely, Fee- no one likes me anymore! You don't like me anymore, Fee! I'm sorry! What did I do? I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, just don't hate me anymore! Come play- please!"

When it would snow, he would try to coax his brother out with promises of snow-hobbits and Mister Bombur's famous hot chocolate, if he would just come out and play… but Fíli never did.

* * *

Fíli quickly realized that locking himself away wasn't helping. His powers were still expanding- and steadily, he found that they were slipping more and more out of control.

One day, in winter, Thorin came to his room with a glass box; and upon opening it, he presented Fíli with a tiny pair of leather gloves.

"The gloves will help you," said Thorin, and Fíli nodded.

"Conceal it," Thorin began, and Fíli immediately leapt in to finish the phrase he has heard dozens of times over the past months, "don't feel it. Don't let it show."

Thorin patted Fíli on the head, gave him a hug and told him that he was "a good lad," and Fíli smiled for once.

* * *

Still, Kíli grew older and it did steadily become easier for him. He began lessons; language, maths and reading with Mister Balin, Uncle Thorin's chief advisor; and fighting, with Mister Dwalin, the Head of the Guard and the best warrior in all of Erebor- or, so Kíli proclaimed. About a year into the confinement, a new boy moved into the royal halls with his brother (and another brother, or so he said, but this other brother was more of a ghost than anything; he was rarely seen, and even though he really wasn't supposed to be there, no one could really get him to leave) - it was Kíli's distant cousin, Ori, who was four years older and who Kíli found an absolute bore, come to apprentice under Mister Balin.

Kíli's tantrums outside his brother's door quickly ended when Head Cook Bombur's brother, Bofur, moved in after the death of his wife- Bofur always could make Kíli laugh, and he made the quaintest little toys, which Kíli absolutely adored.

The entire staff quickly became clear, and these were the only faces Kíli saw day by day. Mister Balin and Mister Dwalin, of course; Óin, the healer and his brother Gloin, a high-ranking guard- both Kíli's uncles, and Gloin lived outside the royal hall with his family, so he would sometimes tell Kíli about his son Gimli, who Kíli thought was a riot; Bofur, the toymaker, Bombur, the head cook, and their cousin Bifur, a guard; Ori, who Kíli never really spoke to, and his brothers Dori, who helped Bombur in the kitchen, and Nori, who…. did…. things. No one was really sure what he did, but whatever it was, Kíli was pretty sure it was illegal. Still, no one could ever catch him doing it, so nothing was to be done. And of course Uncle Thorin, and Mum and Dad, who were always there for him.

Fíli was always there, too; even though Kíli never saw him. He never broke that routine, not for years; every noon, he would knock on Fíli's door and ask him to come and play.

"Fíli? Come on Fee, it's snowing again! Let's go build a snow-hobbit!"

But he never did- he never let him in. And eventually, Kíli realized that he couldn't even remember the sound of his brother's voice anymore. And so, as he spent the hours not learning mostly on his own, he still asked himself; what had he ever done?

And one day, he didn't come. And he realized that it hadn't made a difference to him at all.

* * *

As Kíli grew older, so did Fíli; and thus, so did Fíli's powers. Steadily, they grew stronger and stronger, and Fíli realized something horrible; his powers were completely out of control. It was only when he had huddled in a corner to try and escape the pressure of icy magic pulsating thought his veins and something had burst, and suddenly the wall behind him was coated in thick ice, did Fíli really begin to genuinely fear it.

His father, of course, tried his best to comfort his son. "Being afraid only makes it worse," he said, and his mother reached out a gentle hand; but Fíli instinctively drew back.

"No!" He gasped in alarm. "Please, don't- don't touch me. Please… I don't want to hurt you."

His parents exchanged worried looks, but Fíli knew that they couldn't try to help if he wouldn't allow them to; they left him alone, and that, he knew, was what was best. He was meant to be alone- forever.

* * *

"Mum, why doesn't Fíli ever come out of his room?"

"Kíli, we've had this discussion before."

"Yes, but you've never given me any straight answers. _No one_ gives me straight answers, and I'm tired of it. So, really, mum- why does Fíli stay in there all day?"

"… Kíli, isn't it time for your lessons? Go find Mister Balin."

"_Mum_."

"Kíli- please. You'll understand when you're older."

"When I'm older-"

"Yes! When you're older! Now, please, _mizim_- go work on your lessons."

"… yes, Mum."

* * *

By the time Kíli turns twelve, he doesn't knock on his brother's door anymore. There's no point in it.

* * *

It was only when Kíli was fifteen that everything really fell apart.

It started during his lesson with Mister Dwalin. The dull calm of studying Khuzdul nouns was instantly shattered by Gloin racing into the royal halls, running right past them and into Uncle Thorin's throne room.

In a matter of seconds, nearly everyone came rushing out of different rooms, all headed for one place- and all wielding weapons. Balin sprung up from his seat, white eyebrows knitted in alarm. "What's the meaning of this, lads?"

"Erebor is under attack!" Exclaimed Bofur as he rushed past, axe in hand. "Orcs- hundereds of them! No idea how they got here! Laketown is joining the fight- grab your swords, come on!"

Kíli's eyes widened, and he instantly sprung up from his seat. But his parents, who were running together, almost immediately caught his purpose.

"Not you, Kíli," his mother said with a shake of her dark head. "Not today."

"But mum! If Erebor is under attack-"

"If Erebor is under attack, Kíli, then it is important that you remain safe," his father said, golden brows knitting together. "Leave this to the trained warriors. Go to your room- you'll be alright there."

"But Da- I can fight! I know I can! I have my bow-"

"Next year, Kíli," Víli sighed, smiling fondly at his son and squeezing his shoulder.

"Kíli, please," said his mother, clasping his hand, "go, _mizim_. Remain safe."

And seeing the faces of his mother and father, there was no way for even Kíli to argue. With a short nod, he began running in the opposite direction, towards his rooms, and only chanced one glance over his shoulder, catching a last glimpse of his parents before they ran out after all the others.

Kíli hid, still and quiet for what seemed to be hours- and, more than likely, it actually was hours. He couldn't read; he couldn't sleep; he finally settled for just shooting arrows at the wall and fuming. What kind of son was he? What kind of prince? He ought to be out there, helping his Uncle and his parents; not hiding in his room like a child. He was a coward.

Finally, he managed to get to sleep; he wasn't sure how, but all he knew was that one moment he was studying the cracks on the stone ceiling for the thousandth time and all of a sudden there's a knock on his door and his uncle and mother are standing there, sobbing. And he knows.

The funeral is small. Fíli doesn't make an appearance.

That night, for the first time in four years, Kíli knocked on his brother's door.

"Fíli?" He asked softly. "Please… I know you're in there. You always are… people are asking about you, Fee. They're worried." He trailed off, fighting the tears threatening to overwhelm him. "Fíli… Fíli, Da's dead. And… they say that I have to be strong, and I am- I am being strong. I'm trying…" His voice broke on the last word, and he sucked in a deep breath. No. He wouldn't allow himself to do this. "Fíli, I know. I know that you hate me. I know that you've never responded to me, not in years, and I know you were probably happy when I stopped asking. But… but I'm here, Fee. I'm right out here, right now, and I… please. Just let me in. For once, just let me in. Because… it's just us, now. You, me and Mum. Da's gone, and… Uncle Thorin will try to help, but…" He sighed and allowed a shuddering breath to slip out. "What are we going to do, Fíli?" He asked softly, allowing himself to slip down the door until he was sitting, his back pressed against it.

And he remembered, remembered the days from their childhood, when they were so close. If that Fíli were here- the one who loved him, the one who always protected him and took care of him… he would let him in. But Kíli was pretty sure that that Fíli wasn't even there anymore.

Still, in his grief he remembered the last good memory of his brother; and he remembered the question he had asked so often on all those long, lonely days, while his brother shut him out; and even though he knew it was foolish, he allowed it to slip out, not caring how his voice broke on the words.

"Do you want to build a snow-hobbit?"

But this time, just like all the other times, there was no answer.

He couldn't see his brother on the other side of the door. He didn't see the utter devastation on his face, the icy tears frozen to his pale cheeks, or the complete and utter loss of control; the way Fíli had just collapsed when he heard the news, and how all the magic he had been keeping inside for so long just exploded in a whirl of grief and misery. Kíli didn't see, and Fíli knew that he would never know. He could never know. Now that father was gone…

And for the first time in many, many years, both Fíli and Kíli allowed their heads to fall, and they wept.


End file.
